Reminding Me
by quesera1
Summary: Jay had never felt so lost in his life, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself. Set in season 5.


**Lyrics are from the beautiful song "Reminding Me" by Shawn Hook featuring Vanessa Hudgens.**

 **As I was setting the musical mood to work on Home ( _I promise I haven't abandoned that, I'm working on it!_) this song came on my playlist and somehow this wrote itself in my head...**

* * *

Jay had never felt so lost in his life; it was like he was drowning. It had been months, but he still couldn't wrap his head around it. How had everything been so wonderful, _so perfect_ , just to disappear into thin air almost instantly? The worst part was that he knew he had no one to blame but himself. Sure, _she_ had disappeared from the unit, from the city, from his life—but it was all _his_ fault.

 _He_ was the one that had lied, trying to hide his history with Abby.

 _He_ was the one that left first, ashamed of his past and his behaviour, wanting to protect her from it all.

 _He_ was the one that pushed her, trying to get her to take a stand with her so-called mother.

 _He_ was the one that stood outside the district and just watched her walk away without an ounce of protest, despite the ring burning a hole in his pocket.

And then _he_ was the one who was left behind, desperately calling her number and blinking back the tears and the thoughts of all the things he should have said, all the things he should have done. He wished he'd opened up to her more, shared more. But instead he shuttered parts of himself away from her, just like he had learned to hide them from the rest of the world.

 _She keeps reminding me  
_ _That you're still gone  
_ _And I'm still lonely  
_ _He keeps reminding me  
_ _How good it was  
_ _When we were crazy_

Jay was alone, so very alone. Being alone was his greatest fear, not that he'd ever let anyone in on that little secret. He'd always been terrified of ending up like his father—cold and bitter, driving everyone out of his life. He never said it, but he _needed_ people to lean on. Mouse had been his crutch when they came home and things were messier than ever before. Antonio was like a brother to him, guiding him and ultimately bringing Intelligence—his family—into his life.

And Erin. He didn't know where he would be without her, because truthfully, as much as everyone thought _he_ had been trying to save _her_ , _she_ had been the one to save _him_.

Losing Erin had thrown him off balance in every possible way. He drank too much, too often. He didn't sleep—he _couldn't_ sleep. He was off his game at work for the first time ever. It was like someone was playing a cruel joke on him, twisting the knife and taking everything good away from him. And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, his name was plastered all over the news and his career was in jeopardy. Not that any of that even mattered; there was nothing Jay could lose that would let him forgive himself for ending the life of an innocent child.

That little girl's face would always haunt him, just like so many other faces. Faces of unnamed children like that boy in Landigal. Faces of fellow soldiers and the families they left behind. Faces like Ben Corson and other victims he couldn't save. And Erin, the face of everything he had and everything he lost.

 _Wine, she's spitting out the wine  
_ _I forgot you left behind  
_ _Our favorite cherry red  
_ _Oh, love, I know this isn't love  
_ _'Cause I'm still thinking of you  
_ _While she's getting undressed  
_ _I never should have left_

As Jay there lay in her bed, he tried to remind himself that he actually _wasn't_ alone—he had Camila. And yet, despite being with Camila, Jay still _felt_ alone. Maybe more alone than he had ever felt before. Because Camila didn't actually know him; she had no idea who Jay Halstead was. She thought she was dating an ex-military man named Ryan, a man who picked up security work and went to wild parties to pass his time.

She kept telling him that things were better when he was there, when he was with her. The same was true for him, but for very different reasons. It was better when Camila was there because she was a warm body, a temporary shelter from the shit storm of his real life. It was better when she was there because in those moments, Jay felt just a little less alone.

But it was worse, so much worse. Because she was nothing but a reminder of everything he once had, a reminder of how wonderful it was before he fucked everything up.

Hearing _those_ words from Camila? Hearing her say _I love you_? Jay was dumbfounded by those words; in that moment he couldn't even think. He cared about her, sure. But Jay knew he didn't love her—he _couldn't_ love her. It was impossible. How could he love her when, try as he might, every fibre of his being still loved Erin?

 _She keeps reminding me  
_ _That you're still gone  
_ _And I'm still lonely  
_ _She keeps reminding me  
_ _How good it was  
_ _When we were crazy  
_ _In love, love  
_ _She keeps reminding me how good it was, was  
_ _She keeps reminding me_

Walking out that day, shutting Erin out, throwing everything good away—it was the biggest mistake of Jay's life. Sometimes he let himself think about the _what ifs_ and what might have been. What if he had stayed? What if he had opened himself up to Erin, like she had learned to do with him? What if he had had the chance to propose, _properly_ , like she deserved?

Of course he knew the answers to all of these questions. And somehow the answers hurt even more than the questions. Because if he had stayed, they still would be happy, they would still be _together_. Because if he had opened up to Erin, it would have made them even stronger, it would have made _him_ even stronger. And because Jay knew that if— _when_ —the time came for him to get down on his knee, for him to show her his mother's diamond and ask her that question—the answer would have been yes. She would have said the word that he dreamed of hearing for as long as he could remember. He wanted _everything_ with her—he had a chance at all of that, and instead of taking it, instead of holding on and never letting go, he left. He walked out the door and threw it all away.

If Jay had stayed, he would be waking up beside _Erin_ , not Camila. Where he blonged. If Jay had stayed, he would be building a life to be proud of, not slowly destroying everything he had worked for.

 _I'm tryna' forget you  
_ _With all the regrets  
_ _But I'm still hanging onto  
_ _The memories that you left  
_ _I deleted your number  
_ _With every text  
_ _I'm still tryna' forget you  
_ _Forget you_

Nothing worked. Nothing he did—drinking, partying, Camila—none of that would let him forget. Erin was etched into every memory, every hope, every dream. As hard as he tried, he couldn't let her go. He probably never would…

 _She keeps reminding me  
_ _That you're still gone  
_ _And I'm still lonely_


End file.
